Author: wesleybracken8258

Porno Virus (Part 7) [Interactive]

Theodore, or Teddy, as he now thought of himself–after all, the only person in his life to call him Theodore was his mother, and even then, only when she was about to beat his ass with a switch from the willow–stood in the shower area, dressed in the clothes he’d found, which he now considered to be his clothes, and tried to think about what he’d been doing. Thinking, however, proved to be a bit more difficult than he’d expected it to be. His head just didn’t want to move very quickly, and he’d never been to bright of a fellow to begin with, but there was something he needed to do, something…important. Something about…about an office? Of course, he didn’t work in an office–he’d hate working somewhere like that!–but there was someone…someone he knew in an office, and he…fuck, everything just felt so hazy all of a sudden. He’d feel better with a cigar.

He stomped out of the shower area, lit a cigar, and took a few deep draws, feeling his head clear–and the virus started filling in details. He…was missing someone. Someone…not important, exactly, but someone that…that was his, that was usually always with him. A wife? He laughed at that thought. Teddy wouldn’t let you call him a faggot, of course, but the only hole he wanted to fuck was a man’s–though you’d have to get him very drunk before he let you anywhere near his own. No, not a wife. A boy? A…something. He’d know when he got there–but getting there was going to be the hard part, because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where he’d parked his motorcycle.

He looked around the truck stop parking lot, but the only thing happening was some fancy ass sedan getting towed away. There were some bikes parked over by the bar–not his, but…well, he had a feeling he’d be able to make off with one of them.

Half an hour later, with a fresh gash in one cheek that was drying, and some bruised knuckles, Teddy pulled into the parking lot of the office where he knew he had to go, an office that he could almost remember, like from a dream, even as a voice assured him he’d never been here before in his life. He went inside, and the place was mostly deserted. He could…smell smoke, somewhere, and he let his nose, and that little voice inside his head, guide him deeper and deeper into the building, until he found a large office filled with cigar smoke, and sitting there in front of a monitor, scrolling through porn, was the man he’d been looking for–his pig.

“Pig–what the fuck are you doing here?” Teddy growled at him, causing the chubby, hairy, musky fellow in the chair to flinch in surprise. Steve looked back, at the massive wall of hairy, tattooed flesh standing in the doorway, and the cock in his hand started spurting his load of cum that he’d been edging all over the floor in front of him. Then again, he’d never really been able to resist his…his boss. “Uh, hey…Boss…I uh, I don’t know, I…I was doin’ some work, and–”

“You dumb fuck, I’ve never seen you work a day in your life, and you fuckin’ work for me.”

“I…I know, I…I don’t really know, it’s all…weird.”

Teddy just gave a smoky snort, stepped into the office, hauled Steve out of the chair and pushed him onto his hands and knees. Teddy knew how to remind him, perfectly well, what the proper order of things was. He hauled down Steve’s filthy underwear and rammed his own cock in deep, Steve moaning in pleasure, his own mind being rewritten and emptied out by the virus, filled with new memories of them both. They’d been together for years now, travelling around the country on their bikes when they had the cash, and usually working construction through the warm months to build up some cash. Teddy fucked him rough, digging his nails into Steve’s flabby form, and when he came after a few minutes, the virus had cleaned them both out of their old identities–now they were just Teddy and Steve, a couple of filthy biker bears working construction through the summer until they saved up enough to take off again–and that was all they wanted to be, as far as they were concerned.

Terrance, for its part, was satisfied with the test, but there were other subjects around that could be manipulated as well. Who did Terrance decide to target and infect next?

Instead of picking particular people, here’s a list of some kinks and fetishes that haven’t been represented much yet. Let me know what you’d like to see, and I’ll craft a scenario around those interests. The public poll is below, and the bonus patron poll can be found over here!

Caption: Insane

Why are you here? You’re here because you’re sick. Because you’re insane. At least, that’s what they tell you, when they even bother to speak to you, when the people who come to your cell can even speak.

How long has it been? There is no clock in here. There is no window. Food comes when it comes, but it doesn’t seem to come regularly. The pills, perhaps, are more regular, but they make time stretch and twist and bend and snap. More than a week, at least. Perhaps a month. Perhaps longer.

When can you leave? When you don’t want to leave anymore. After all, why would you want to leave this? You love this, don’t you? You love the feel of the rubber against your skin, how it feels to have your hands bound. You told them you didn’t, but the pills made you so horny, they refused to believe you. You made such a mess, in fact, cumming all over the floor, they had to pad you, and the constriction around your cock only makes you leak even more, all the time. But you don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be doing this, you don’t…right? But they say you do. They say you wanted to come here. They say you asked for this. They have your signature on paper, papers you don’t think you ever saw, but it’s enough, they say. Enough, that they can do anything they want to you, because that’s what you wanted, when you were sane, when you signed the papers, and now you are not sane, and so everything you say you think is wrong. So you cannot leave, until you want to stay, and if you ever want to leave again, it will only be another sign of your insanity returning, won’t it?

Caption: Gramps’ Garage

No one loves you like grandpa loves you boy.

Out there, who the fuck would want to give you a second glance? Look at all of your fat rolls, tiny cock, big ears, that annoying voice of yours. Nobody wants you, but here, with grandpa? You know that you’re special.

You know grandpa loves how fat you are, loves how you moan, loves that little cock of yours and that hungry hole. You don’t need to go anywhere else to get what you need, you don’t need a woman, and you don’t need friends. You just need gramps is all. Feel his old hands on your belly, playing with your fat. His hot breath and bushy beard scraping against your tender skin. HIs weathered hands on your scalp as he pushed you down onto your knees, face to face with his big, stinking, uncut cock.

“Who’s my hungry piggy?” he’ll ask you, and you’ll hate it, hate that the answer is you, but…but if you didn’t have grandpa, who would you have at all? So you grunt for him, and suck him off, get his old cock hard, and he’ll turn you around and plow you, there in the garage, and it hurts still, but less than it did. You’re getting used to it. You’re starting to enjoy it. You’re starting to believe him.

You’re starting to see this pig in the mirror outside of the garage. You’re starting to think that he might be right. You don’t think you always looked like this, you thought it was some trick, some spell he’d cast on you, but maybe…maybe you were just being thick. “You gonna come for grandpa today, piggy? Is that short little cock gonna blow a load for me, all over the fucking cement?” You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but with a grunt, you do, pumping a big load all over the floor, knowing that grandpa will make you lick it up, once he finishes inside you.

Back in the house, you look in the mirror. You look like you remember, like before–mostly. But you…can see it, you know the truth. One day, you’ll look in the mirror, and grandpa’s pig is all you’ll see. The thought makes you hard, and you get in the shower, run the water ice cold, but the thought won’t go away. It’s still there, eating away at you, no matter how hard you try and deny it, and one day, it’ll all be gone for good.

Porno Virus (Part 6)

There were a lot of good options on this one, but the oversized/biker/construction combo won out by a bit. There might be a bonus version of this part using some other options for Patrons only later this week!

The clothes inside the lost and found box looked to be less lost, and more abandoned. None of them were washed, many had various holes, ripped seams, and mysterious stains on them, and while the Theodore would have never even considered touching something like this before the virus infected him, now it just seemed like the most…reasonable course of action. The fact that touching the stiff denim and grungy cotton was giving him a hard-on didn’t seem worth thinking about.

In the end, he cobbled together an outfit of a sort from some of the more intact pieces in the box. He found a cleanish set of briefs, though they did have sizable skid mark down the back, and a hole that the head of his cock wanted to slide through when he put them on. They were too large for him by a bit, or perhaps it was just that the elastic band had lost some of its tightness. In any case, they wound work, and they still fit better than the rest of the clothes he could find in there.

The normal sized stuff was mostly ripped and shredded beyond repair. What remained was all much too large for him, but he figured it would work well enough to get him back to his car. He pulled on a pair of muddy jeans, one knee ripped out, with a waist several inches too large, and an inseam that had the legs pooling around his feet. There was a belt, luckily, a leather one with a Harley Davidson buckle on it, that worked to keep them cinched up. After that came a hi-viz shirt, with stained armpits. It was a 4xl-tall, and hung off Theodore’s body comically, but at least he wasn’t naked. There were some boots in the box, and some grungy, holy socks. He pulled them on, but they were as large on him as everything else. Lastly, though he didn’t know why, he pulled out a leather biker vest and slung that over his shoulders, but that too, was too large, and lastly, a slightly dented hard hat came out and he set it on his head.

Theodore could feel that…strange sensation coming over him again, the same one he’d been feeling all day, the same one that had happened a moment before, when he’d grown out of his khakis and polo shirt, except this time, it was somehow more intense. It started in his bones, a deep, aching heat, followed by a few disturbing cracks as his legs started to grow and extend, the bones growing thicker, sturdier. He stumbled against the wall and slumped over, trying to keep a hold of himself, as the heat spread outward from his bones, into his joints, into his muscles, all the way up to his skin. The belt that he had cinched tight a moment before was now cutting into his stomach suddenly, and he fumbled with the clasp, opening up, feeling his body fill out the jeans, the shirt seeming to shrink as his body grew not only taller, but also thicker. His muscles were growing, certainly, but the fat cells inside his body had begun to multiply at an alarming rate, a sizable, yet firm, gut pushing out the front of the shirt.

He knelt there, shaking and shuddering in pain for a few minutes, until he could finally feel the changes subside. He expected to feel exhausted after that, but if anything, he felt…more energized than he had in years, up to that point. He got back up on both of his feet, and was struck by a sudden sense of vertigo–he was now more than a foot taller than he’d been before, going from a meager five foot six inches, all the way to a few inches shy of seven. The jeans that had been comically long before this now barely made it to the tops of the boots, and wiggling his toes, he could tell that his feet had grown as well. He stumbled back into the bathroom proper, and looking at him in the mirror now–he barely recognized the face staring back at him.

The stubble he had forgotten to shave was now a full fledged beard, and the hair he usually kept so neatly trimmed was no longer there–it had either fallen out or pulled back into his skull, leaving him with a shiny cueball instead. His arms were quite hairy, and underneath the hair, he could see that tattoos had appeared in full sleeves, all of them…ones that he’d gotten when he was younger, riding across the country on his bike with his gang, and…and that wasn’t right, was it?

His head felt all mixed up all of a sudden. Shouldn’t he be terrified at this, at what had happened to his body? But he wasn’t terrified–instead, the main things he was feeling was, first, that he was desperate for a cigar, and second, that he was hornier than he could ever recall being…except he was always this horny, wasn’t he? He groped his cock, feeling the nine inch shaft already half hard in his dirty briefs, the head sliding out the hole in his underwear, and then through the matching hole in the jeans, and he grinned, showing a mouthful of crooked, yellowed teeth. There…was something that he needed to do, wasn’t there? But what? It had been important, but it seemed to have slipped his mind.

What happens next? Don’t forget the bonus poll for patrons if you support me too!

Caption: Cheater’s Remorse (pt. 1)

Here’s the first in a pair of captions I posted over on my discord recently–again, if you want the second half, the only way to get it is to support me over on Patreon with a pledge of $5 or more!

“Is he there or not, Max?”

“Kev, just fucking drop it, alright? What the fuck are you even doing, calling me.”

“I just want to know where Ryan is–is he with you or not?”

As a matter of fact, Ryan was with him. Max was lying on his bed, propped up on the headboard, talking on the phone to his friend Kev, while Ryan–Kev’s boyfriend, was kissing and rubbing up against Max’s stomach like a fucking whore. He didn’t know how Kev had cottoned onto their little arrangement, but he supposed revealing the game at this point wasn’t going to cost him anything–after all, he had Ryan, whatever happened.

“Yeah, he’s fucking here, Kev, you’re loss. He’s gonna be sucking my cock here soon too, in case you were wondering what we were doing together.”

“Oh, I knew what you were doing, I just wanted to be sure he was there, before I released him.”

“Wait, what?” Max asked, but he didn’t get a reply–Kev just hung up on him after a little chuckle. “What the fuck ever,” Max said, and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, and focused on guiding Ryan down towards his cock, when Ryan suddenly shuddered, like an electric shock had gone through him, and he fell back off the bed in surprise.

“Hey, you alright? Max asked him.

“Y-Yeah, I…I fuck, I don’t feel so good, all of a sudden,” Ryan groaned, and then stood up, his legs shaking a bit, and he headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Max wondering what in the world was even going on around here. Was this…were the two of them playing him, or something?

Max could here Ryan groaning and moaning in pain behind the door, but the more sound he made, the…stranger he sounded. His voice was getting deeper, and raspier, and…distinctly un-Ryan. “Are…you alright in there?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m…It’s fuckin’ fine, boy!” the voice hollered back at him. That–was definitely not Ryan. Max went to leave, but the door opened, revealing a short, hairy, old piggy looking fucker, big nose and greasy skin, everything that was not Max’s type, sucking on a short, foul smelling cigar. “That’s fuckin’ better,” the stranger said, “Now boy, where the fuck were we? Get down on yer knees, ‘n get suckin.”

Max tried to say no, tried to run, but his legs betrayed him. He fell to his knees, and started sucking on the ugly bear’s short, thick cock–unwashed and uncut cock, too, he soon found out.

“That’s a good boy–we’re gonna have a real good night together, aren’t we,” the bear said, with a chuckle, “yeah–yer gonna love it, trust me.”

Porno Virus (Part 5) [Interactive]

Theodore was in a parking lot, when he looked up and around in the car. It was not a parking lot he recognized. Off to one side, there were a sizable number of gas pumps, all spaced out for semis, and near that, was a small complex with a restaurant, convenience store, and some bathrooms and showers. He realized he had somehow ended up at a truck stop, one right off the highway from the looks of the overpass nearby, which was in the direct opposite direction from the golf club, where he should have been heading. He had shut off his car, and went to turn in back on, but the car refused to start–the virus had gotten into the system and killed the CPU. With a frustrated curse, he pulled out his cell phone, only to discover that it too was on the fritz–the battery had somehow drained in the course of his drive over, and it was now completely dead.

Now what, then? The store would probably have a phone, of course, and he could at least call a tow truck to get his car back home. He put out the cigar butt on the asphalt, and reached for another one, before he stopped himself. He…almost never smoked two of them, and he also never smoked in the car. Something…was weird about all of this, but he didn’t quite know how to put his finger on it. He went into the store, and asked the guy behind the counter if he could use his phone to call a tow truck. He did, gave the company his information, and they told him it would be about half an hour before they got there to haul it off.

Outside, Mr. Drake toyed with one of his cigars, but there was a more pressing issue at hand–he had to take a piss, a bad one. He could do that, have a smoke, and wait for the tow truck to get there. One thing was for certain, there wasn’t going to be any golf in the cards for him today.

The showers were behind the building, and Theodore slipped into the men’s side. The bathroom itself was empty, but he could hear the showers running next to it, so he wasn’t entirely alone. It was too bad really, he was feeling…kind of horny again. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, and for a second, he was confused–the face looking back at him…it didn’t see right to him, somehow. On one hand, he wasn’t looking his usual best, with a shaved face, combed hair, clean skin…but something else was wrong too…like…he ought to look some…other way instead, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what that meant to him.

This…wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He shouldn’t look like this, and…and he shouldn’t be wearing these clothes, should he? The polo shirt he usually wore golfing suddenly felt scratchy, and the khakis were biting into his waist. The shoes felt way too small of his feet too. He tore his clothes off of himself in a bit of a fury, not even really sure himself why he was stripping naked in the middle of the bathroom, but he had to get them off. They…they weren’t his clothes! He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he…he did. They weren’t his clothes, they weren’t the clothes he was supposed to be wearing. After a minute, he was sweaty and puffing, standing naked in front of the mirror, feeling…a bit better, perhaps, but much more vulnerable. There…had to be something for him to wear here, didn’t there?

He slipped deeper, past the bathroom and into the shower area, and he could see some piles of clothes from the guys showering at the moment off to one side, but there was also a large crate off in a corner, and a sign hanging over it that said “lost and found”. He…kind of liked the idea of stealing someone’s clothes, and he…he bet they all smelled nice, but that…that could cause some problems. Best to just try and cobble something together instead from the wreckage that was left behind, and work out what to do about everything later. The options in the box were meager, but he was able to scrounge together an outfit of some sort, and he started pulling on his new clothes, feeling better in them already.

The lost and found box doesn’t really have cohesive outfits, so Theodore is going to have to make do with some…broader categories of clothing. Choose your favorite categories below, and the most popular ones will influence Mr. Drake’s new look, and story options, the most. Don’t forget the bonus poll if you’re a patron as well!

Caption: Who’s the Boss Now? (Part 1)

This is the first of four linked captions that are available for patrons over on my discord channel! Supporting me at the five dollar a month tier gets you access to these, the rest of the discord, all of my other captions, and exclusive stories on my Patreon page! If you want more details, you can find them here. If you support me at the five dollar level, but don’t know how to access the discord channel, send me a message, and I’ll walk you through how you can link your patreon and discord accounts together.

Some people don’t deserve their authority, and one of those people was Simon. He was nearly fifty, but he still behaved like he was in a frat in college. Despite his antics, he had already failed up through most of the levels of his father’s company, and now held the title of vice president  of such-and-such–what it was didn’t really matter, at this point, even his own father knew that giving Simon any more authority would be a disaster. So Simon could do pretty much whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if he didn’t show up to work, it didn’t matter if he was hungover, if he smelled like pot, if he brought a hooker. More than once, the hookers had gotten pregnant. Abortions had been arranged in most cases, all aside from one–Simon had one son who was now of college age, but without a real role model in his life, he wasn’t going to amount to anything either. It was clear though, to the faeries, that it was time for Simon to learn some responsibility–it was time for him to learn what it was like at the bottom of the totem pole.

The day started like any other day, though. He woke up, somewhere between drunk and hungover, dismissed the whore in bed with him, and got into the shower. He didn’t really feel like going into work today–it was a Monday, and usually he just skipped them entirely, but something…told him that he needed to go in today, but he didn’t quite know why. He put on a shirt and slacks, but no tie–he hated wearing a tie–and then he went downstairs, where his slacker son was in the living room, bong on the table, playing video games. On a different sort of morning, Simon might have joined him for a hit or two and some shooter of some sort, but instead he got in one of his several cars, and drove off to the office. He had…a meeting with his dad today, one he couldn’t quite recall making, but it was…important.

His father was an older gentleman, almost seventy now, but he had staved off retirement, because even he knew that passing the reins of the company to his son Simon would be a disaster. Simon headed for his father’s office, but as soon as he passed through the door and the secretary shut it behind him…he could sense that something was off.

“There you are, late as usual, I see.”

The criticism wasn’t new, but the disgust, and disappointment–the utter contempt in his father’s voice–that was new. Simon stammered for a reply, unsure what was happening, and that’s when he noticed that his father…wasn’t wearing his slacks, sitting at his desk.

“Well, get the fuck under here boy–you know I’m the fucking boss around here, right? And what does that make you?”

“The…the…s-slave sir.”

“That’s right–now suck your daddy’s cock like a good boy.”

Simon tried to fight it, but he crawled under his father’s desk, and started sucking his cock. To his horror, people kept coming into the office for meetings, and Simon stayed there, his father’s cock in his mouth, while his dad went about the company business, keeping Simon under there for almost an hour before finally cumming in his mouth, and dismissing him with barely a word, Simon scrambling out of his father’s sight, confused and horrified at what he’d just done, and he hurried to the bathroom, to sort himself out.

Porno Virus (Part 4) [Interactive]

Mr. Theodore Drake was having a pleasantly slow morning that Saturday, happy to be away from the office with his family. He was an older fellow, sliding into his mid fifties more or less gracefully. He exercised, but not as much as he could, he supposed, and while he enjoyed golfing a few times each week, it wasn’t enough to remove his paunch entirely. His balding had advanced in the last few years enough that he had decided to embrace it grudgingly, keeping it trimmed up in a neat horseshoe of grey, and a tight mustache accenting his lip below. He was a conservative fellow, with a conservative family–a loving wife, and a somewhat struggling son living at home while going to college, but he had hope his boy would find his way eventually.

He woke around eight, got up, took the dog for a walk, and when he got back, his wife was preparing breakfast for the three of them. He read the paper and enjoyed his family’s company, and then did a bit of yard work outside that his wife had been pestering him about for a week or so. His tee time with the fellows at the club wasn’t until the early afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to mow the lawn and fix one of the sprinklers that had been acting up lately–and which also worked up a bit of a sweat. While he was in the yard that morning, Steve–one of Mr. Drake’s subordinates at work–was arriving at the office, smoking a cigar, the virus inside him running rampant through the servers of the company. Steve…could sense that something was wrong, and so he did his best, as the urge to smoke overwhelmed him, to try and tell his boss that something was wrong at the company, with the servers. Of course, Terrance couldn’t allow something like that to escape its net.

And so, in transit, the email was corrupted by the same virus that was twisting and corrupting Steve, and the email ended up in Mr. Drake’s inbox, his phone alerting him to the email while he was in the bathroom, stripping out of his muddy clothes and getting ready to shower before going to the golf club for the afternoon. As a general rule, Theodore didn’t deal with work problems over the weekend if he could help it–but this was marked urgent, and Steve had mentioned more than once that something about the servers had seemed…strange. Theodore found some of Steve’s personal proclivities…distasteful, but he couldn’t deny that the man was good at his job, and as long as the gay could keep his hands to himself, Theodore could handle it for the most part. So he sat down on the toilet, opened up the email, and the virus embedded in the file entered Mr. Drake’s phone, and with a spark, jumped into Mr. Drake himself.

The virus trawled through Mr. Drake’s phone, looking for relevant pornography it could use against him, and found nothing–Theodore thought porn was incredibly distasteful, and while he had slowed down considerably over the last few years, he still had a very active sex life with his wife. So, finding nothing, it relied on what it did have–the porn it had taken from Steve’s sizable archive and varied tastes. Theodore saw his screen glitch and go dark for a second, and then a slideshow started, a rapid one, showing a cascade of naked men–almost all of them smoking, many of them chubby, and lots of them with…decidedly more lax hygiene than Mr. Drake did himself. At first he was disgusted, but he couldn’t do anything, as his hand gripped his cock and started stroking, masturbating and watching, helplessly, as the virus went to work, attacking his defenses, drilling deeper into his body, slowly taking over, until Theodore released a massive load of cum all over the floor of the bathroom, his phone returned to normal–the email now missing entirely–and Mr. Drake blinked back to himself, unsure of what had just happened.

He’d been planning to shower and shave, but he got up from the toilet, and did neither of those things–he didn’t even pay attention to the load of cum drying on the tile floor. He…didn’t want to be late for his golf game after all, and there was something else bugging him, all of a sudden. He went over to his small humidor that he kept stocked for the occasional cigar he enjoyed on the golf course or during a poker game, and pulled out five, putting them in his pocket after he got dressed. He…didn’t know why he needed one so bad, but he did, and feeling like he was ready, he went down to his car and climbed inside–forgetting to put his golf clubs in the trunk, but lighting up a cigar as soon as he was out and driving down the driveway.

The virus jumped from his phone, into the navigation system on the car and scrambled it. Theodore wasn’t paying attention to where he was going though, smoking one of his cigars just felt so good, it was hard keeping two hands on the wheel, and whenever he stopped at a light, he would reach down with one hand and grope himself, feeling the precum getting the crotch of his khakis a bit damp. He drove for a while, and pulled in somewhere, parked, and continued smoking his cigar,  now jacking off eagerly, confused as to why he was so horny all of a sudden, but not disappointed by any means. He came again, and then looked around at where he was–but it wasn’t the golf club. Instead, the virus had led him somewhere else entirely–but where?

Here’s the public poll, and if you’re a patron, you can access the patron bonus poll over here as well!